To Show Us How To Live
by quiet-heart
Summary: A Christmas special of sorts. Grissom learns a lesson about faith.


_A/N: and a Merry Christmas to all. This is my version of a Christmas Special. I know this is early but with my work schedual... Anyway, this story is one of three stories that stand alone but can be combined if you read all three CSI stories set in three different locations. Read, review, and enjoy and may the spirit of Christmas find you._

**To Show Us How to Live**

_Every now and then_

_Soft as breath upon my skin  
I feel you come back again_

_And it's like you haven't been_

_Gone a moment from my side.  
Like the tears were never cried,  
Like the hands of time are holdin' you and me._

It was a typical night in Las Vegas as Gil Grissom, LVPD CSI, studied his first crime scene of the night. As typical of the dessert region, it was proving to be a cool night and Grissom already had his crime scene windbreaker on to protect him from the slight chill in the air as well as identify him from others.

There had been a hit-and-run and it looked like the runner had walked away from the crime scene after hitting the victim and slamming into a nearby streetlight. The victim had not survived the hit and was already being examined and processed by assistant coroner David Phillips, and Sara Sidle was already working the scene around the victim with Nick Stokes processing the car and Grissom working the area around car in hopes of identifying the driver and, maybe, figuring out where he or she went to.

The accident had happened less than a block away from an old church in an old part of Las Vegas. It was a quiet, peaceful area, usually not too much trouble but Grissom knew trouble could strike anywhere, no matter how peaceful the area. That was just the way things worked.

Something caught his eye on the ground and he shone his Mini Maglite on it. _It_ turned out to be a drop of drying blood and appeared to lead up to the old church. Grissom quickly photographed the blood, took a sample, placed a marker next to it, and began to follow and photograph the blood drops.

Several blood drops were at the front of the door and there was a blood smear on the door handle. Already wearing latex gloves, Grissom cautiously tested the door. It was unlocked and he entered the darkened church just as cautiously.

_And with all my heart I'm sure_

_We're closer than we ever were  
I don't have to hear or see_

_I've got all the proof I need_

_There are more than angels watching over me  
I believe, I believe._

Wiping her bleeding nose with her tissue, Amy Settler lit another candle at the altar. Then she looked up at the huge statue of Jesus Christ. She was seventeen and she had leukemia, which was why her nose was bleeding. Chemotherapy hadn't worked and the doctors had quietly predicted that she'd only had a few months left. Her mom and dad had been devastated but she wasn't. She wasn't afraid of dying. In some ways, it would be a relief from the pain of the cancer. Besides, she knew Grandma Amy, for whom she was named for, was waiting for her in heaven.

And so she waited patiently, enjoying the peace and tranquility of the churches, like this old one she'd found some weeks back, back when she first learned that her time on Earth was limited. The priest who ran this place, he knew she was here and had bid her welcome any time she wanted to come. It wasn't a fancy place but, unlike some of the other places, she found a certain measure of peace in its quietness. It was a break from the hospital and the fussing of her parents.

She knew there'd been an accident just down the street, having passed it on the way to the church, and she'd lit a candle for the victim.

"Here you go, friend. May God's angels guide you to that special place called Heaven and may you find peace there," she'd said as she lit the candle.

She heard footsteps enter the church and she turned around. She spotted a man with graying hair, dark blue windbreaker with the words _CSI_ in reflective silver tape, latex gloves, and a flashlight in his hand, cautiously studying his surroundings even as he followed what looked like dark drops of blood on the floor.

Her blood, she realized. The man must be an investigator investigating the accident down the street and had spotted her blood before she could get a tissue for her nose. Naturally he'd followed the blood.

"Hello," she called.

The man's head snapped up and his light swung towards her.

"Are you okay?" he called.

"I'm fine, thank you. Can I help you?" she asked.

"Are you bleeding, by any chance?" he asked, coming up to her.

"Yes, a bit of a nose bleed. I think that's my blood you were following," she said, smiling.

Grissom studied the pale young woman in front of him, watching as she wiped her nose with a bloody tissue. She had dark circles under her eyes and her red hair hung in a limp ponytail. Even her clothes looked a bit too big on her. Instead of looking fine, she looked sick, very sick.

"I'm Gil Grissom, Las Vegas Crime Lab," he said, deciding to go for introductions and find out why she was there at this time of night, especially in a church where the only light seemed to be coming from the altar candles.

"Amy Settler. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Grissom. Are you investigating the accident down the street?" she asked politely.

"Yes, I am," Grissom said. "May I ask why you're here?"

"Taking a break from the hospital and my fussing parents," Amy replied, smiling. "I just lit a candle for the victim of the accident to serve as a light to guide him or her to Heaven."

"I see," he said, not really seeing.

Amy sensed that and she explained patiently. "I've got leukemia and chemo isn't working too good for me."

"And your parents aren't handling it well, I take it?"

"Understandably not, since I'm an only child."

"But why here?"

"Because it's peaceful. I find it comforting, especially knowing that I'm dying." She studied him. "Do you believe in God, Mr. Grissom?" she asked.

Grissom sighed heavily. "My mother was a Catholic but I'm not. I believe in science and in the evidence."

"Why?"

"Because in my line of work, the evidence never lies."

Amy nodded. "So you don't believe in God."

"Most days I'm not sure what to believe in, in terms of religion," he admitted. "What about you? What do you believe in?"

"I believe in God and His Mercy. When the leukemia finally claims me, I believe that He and my Grandma Amy, who passed on before me some years back, will be waiting for me when I get there."

"Why?"

"Because faith can be a powerful thing," a female voice said from the shadows.

As Grissom and Amy watched, a woman with dark brown curly hair emerged from the church shadows. She was wearing an ankle-length coat in a soft grey Chinese brocade material patterned with silver butterflies that caught the flickering candlelight, making them seem almost alive. The coat had a deep round hood, Mandarin collar, fitted bodice, and was held shut by dark grey Chinese frogs. The sleeves were wide trumpet sleeves and the hood, sleeves, collar, edges of the coat, and bottom of the coat were all edged with a dark grey piping. Grissom could see grey boots peeking out from under her coat. Oddly, they made no sound against the hardwood floor.

As they watched, the woman picked up a light stick, held it to the flame of a candle until the flame jumped to the stick, and lit another candle with the stick. She blew out the flame on the stick and put it back where it belonged. In the candlelight, the woman's face seemed to have a bit of a glow to it, but Grissom swore it was just a trick of the light. He couldn't, however, explain the feeling of peace and trust he felt about her. There was just something _there_ that made him want to trust this woman, trust her with everything he held dear.

"Faith can bring comfort to those who know their time is near. It can bring peace, which is better than helpless despair," the woman continued, her voice soft and light, with no visible accent. "It can also bring strength."

Amy nodded in agreement.

"It doesn't matter what you believe in, whether it be Jesus, Allah, or Buddha, to name a few," the woman continued. "All that matters is the strength of your faith. It can carry you father than you realize."

"Some people carry that faith to the point of fanaticism," Grissom pointed out.

"Unfortunately yes, I admit to that, and they are the dangerous ones, the ones who will kill for their beliefs, believing their light to be the only light, when, in fact, that's not true," the woman said.

"What do you believe?" Amy asked, curious.

"I believe that God has many faces and many names, that He is both male and female, and that He lives in all of us. He is there in our love and our faith. He grieves, not for those who've passed before us because they are at peace, but for the living because He knows that we must somehow find the strength to carry on, grieving as we are. Even so, He watches over us just the same." She looked at both of them and smiled a small smile. "Faith gives us hope in times of darkness and strength in times of need. It helps us find the strength to carry on and can bring peace when we know our time is near. Faith is a light unto ourselves, more than you realize, because faith is hope and hope is the light of the world."

Grissom's cell went off. He looked at it. It was Nick Stokes. He answered the call.

"_Hey Gris, where are you?_" Nick asked.

"Inside a church following a blood trail. Any sign of the driver?" Grissom asked.

"_Yeah, found him about a block up from the scene. Looks like he survived hitting the victim but not the streetlight. David is already suggesting internal bleeding, which wouldn't surprise me,_" Nick reported. "_I also found open beer bottles so David is going to make sure a Blood Alcohol Level test is done on the driver._"

"Good idea," Grissom said.

"_Oh, and we have a Mr. Settler looking for his seventeen year-old daughter, Amy. Seems she's very sick and tends to vanish to the church in this region. Have you seen her?_"

Grissom gave a small smile at the girl and said, "Yes, I have. We'll be there shortly." He hung up and said, "Looks like your father is looking for you."

Amy sighed heavily. "Okay, I'll go with you. Quiet time is over, I guess."

"Before we do, may I have a sample of your blood for elimination purposes?" Grissom asked, taking out another swab.

"Because you found my blood on the floor and thought it might be the driver's blood?" Amy asked, curious. Grissom nodded. "Swab away," she said, gesturing towards her nose, which was bleeding again.

Grissom took his blood sample and said, "Thank you."

Then the woman smiled at Amy and said, "You're right, He will be waiting for you when it's your time, as will your grandmother. When it's your time, Amy, she will be there to guide you Home." She removed a white cloth from a pocket in her coat and gently cleaned Amy's face free of blood.

Amy's face lit up at the concept and she smiled at the woman. Then, as a group, the three of them exited the church.

Back at the crime scene, a crowd was gathered behind the yellow tape and a frantic man with red hair stood talking to an officer. Amy went over to him and smiled. The man turned to her and gave her a tight hug. She said something to him and he touched her face tenderly, saying something to her. She said something back and pointed towards Grissom. The man, obviously Amy's father, looked at him and nodded in thanks, to which Grissom nodded back in welcome. Then Mr. Settler led his daughter away, reassured once more that she was safe.

"You may not believe in God, Gilbert, but God believes in you and believe me when I say that He's proud of you," the woman said quietly, standing a few feet away from him, watching the crowd. She turned her head and smiled at him and then the crowd around them moved and she vanished from his sight.

"Hey Gris," came Sara's gentle voice as she joined him. "What are you looking at?"

Grissom blinked in confusion for a moment. The woman was gone as if she'd never been there. He couldn't even spot her grey coat, which had been a bit unusual enough to stand out in the crowd. Didn't anyone else see her walk with him and Amy? And why hadn't he thought to ask her name? How had she known his full first name? Not only that, but why was he having trouble remembering what she looked like? Had she been real? He was sure she was real. Both he and Amy had spoken to her. So why couldn't he remember what she looked like?

"Nothing, never mind. Lost in my own thoughts," he said, smiling at the woman who'd become his lover as well as his friend and co-worker. "I'm going to head back to the lab and get started on processing the evidence with Nick."

"Sounds good," Sara replied, used to him doing that. She smiled and said, "Catch up with you later."

As Nick drove to the lab, he turned on the radio and a song came on over the speakers. It was a popular song called "I Believe" by a country group called Diamond Rio. Grissom didn't mind, as it was better than the hard rock that Greg Sanders preferred.

_  
Now when you die, your life goes on  
It doesn't end here when you're gone_

_Every soul is filled with light  
It never ends and if I'm right_

_  
Our love can even reach across eternity  
I believe, I believe _

Forever, you're a part of me  
Forever, in the heart of me  
And I'll hold you even longer if I can.  
The people who don't see the most  
Say that I believe in ghosts  
And if that makes me crazy, then I am  
'Cause I believe, oh, I believe.

"Lost in thought, Gris?" Nick quietly asked his supervisor, watching him watch the passing scenery.

"Yeah," Grissom replied absently.

Nick spared a glance at the sky and he smiled. "Looks like our victim is on his way to Heaven," he said.

"What makes you say that?" Grissom asked.

Nick pointed out the window to a star that seemed to shine brighter than the rest. "That star looks like it's shining brighter than the rest and when I was a kid, I used to believe that stars were actually souls on their way to Heaven."

"Do you still believe that?"

Nick smiled and said, "Not really, at least not as much as I used to when I was younger, but it's nice to believe in something like that with all the devastation we see at the crime scenes all the time, especially the ones where people have died."

There are more than angels watching over me  
I believe, oh, I believe

_Every now and then_

_Soft as breath upon my skin  
I feel you come back again_

Grissom nodded, thinking about what the woman had said. "If it brings you a bit of comfort, it's a nice belief."

_And I believe._

And Grissom gave a small smile.


End file.
